


No Blood

by Rellie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rellie/pseuds/Rellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime still spends his days by her side...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Blood

There was lingering warmth on the sheets beside her and blood on her pillow again that morning.

With a weary sigh Brienne turned it over, hoping to hide it until the maid came in just in case he hadn’t already seen it. There was no sense concerning him any more than she already had cause to.

It was still dark outside but that did not necessarily mean it was early, the dark held sway until it was near on midday now that winter had descended.  She could smell the scent of the recently extinguished candle in the glass by her beside, the thin smoke still wafting up from it. Pressing her hand into the warm spot beside her Brienne wondered how long he’d been gone, why he even bothered to keep up the pretence he didn’t sleep in here…sometimes in the chair beside her bed, sometimes beside her offering comfort if she was gripped by the fever as she had been last night. But he left each morning, before she awoke, thinking she was ignorant of his presence here at nights.

Not that she asked him to stay. She would never ask him to.

The door creaked open and Brienne groaned loudly, wishing she had the strength to throw her pillow at him.

“Go away, Jaime.”

He ushered in a servant girl before him who was balancing a bowl of something that smelled absolutely foul. The girl placed the bowl on the table, shooting a frightened look at Brienne and then hastily backed out of the room. It was sensible, Brienne thought repressing another coughing fit, no one wanted to get sick, anyone with the least amount of sense would keep their distance.

Jaime came over and perched himself on the edge of her bed, completely disregarding the chair placed only a foot further away.

“You remain gracious as ever, my lady.”

She leant back on her pillows, regarding him with exasperation.  When she’d had more strength only a few weeks ago, she’d forced him bodily from the room but now to even glare at him was effort.

“I told you to leave.”

He lit the candle, giving the room a little more brightness than the thin grey sunlight that was creeping in through the window now.

“You do not give me leave to come and go in my own house, wench.”

 “You could get sick, it’s nothing to joke about. If you die…”

He sat back down heavily, waving his hand as if batting away her concerns.

“If I am still in the realm of the living after so many days have passed then I think we can safely say I am not going to be taking to my bed with your mysterious illness.”

She sighed, giving up on getting him to leave. Part of her wanted him to stay anyway, the long hours gave her too much time to think when she was alone.

“Did you sleep?” he asked, concern creasing his forehead. He knew the answer, of course. Her hallucinations were sometimes vivid but she was not imagining the lingering smell of his skin or the indentations of the sheets.

“Yes, I slept fine.”

The darkening of his eyes told her that he knew she was a liar. She held his gaze, daring him to call her out on it, to admit he’d been here.

Instead he looked away, looking across at the candle as it threw strange flickering shadows onto her wall.

“Are you training today?” she asked.

“No.”

Jaime hadn’t picked up a sword since she’d taken to her bed. It was foolish not to mention dangerous. He needed to train with his left hand, needed to practise or if it came down to a final battle he’d be cut down instantly. Part of her wondered if that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Jaime…”

He looked very tired, she saw. His eyes were rimmed with red and bloodshot, yellowy-grey smudges underneath them that made him look older than his years.

 “When you’re well again, _you_ can train with me. I don’t wish to train with anyone else.”

This was a familiar litany ‘When you’re well again…’. All of his plans seemed to revolve around what they would do when she was recovered.

 “Jaime…you need to stop.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. He refused to acknowledge that she might not get well, had made it public knowledge that he offered money for her cure. So many different people had come to treat her, to give her strange things to drink, smear odd ointments on her, chant over her.

 None of them had worked. In the end she’d tired of it and refused to see them anymore, threatened to throw herself out of the window if he bought another stranger into her room. He’d relented and now he bought the potions and medications up himself.

“I don’t need to do anything, as I told you before you do not command me here. I am the Lord of this gods forsaken Rock and if I wish to spend every last piece of gold on healers and quacks you cannot tell me to do otherwise.”

Bitterness bled through into his voice and Brienne felt a stab of unwanted sympathy.

With a sigh, she motioned for him to bring her the bowl. A gesture on her part, these ridiculous cures made her feel no better but Jaime had to feel as if he was doing something. As if he was fighting even when his enemy was intangible.

He handed it to her in silence.

Downing the disgusting liquid in one Brienne managed not to grimace too obviously as she handed him the bowl back.

 

The day wore on much as most her days had since she’d been taken ill- she slept intermittently while Jaime came and went, called away by messengers and to war councils. He should have been fighting, leading armies in the battles in the North but he refused to leave.  Many called him coward for it, the Kingslayer who cringed in his Keep while the world went to wrack and ruin around him.

But he wouldn’t go without her… she should have been by his side, in the battle and if they died then maybe he felt they should have died together.   Maybe he felt bitter that all those he cared for had gone on before him…his mother, his father, his sister, his children…all gone. Maybe that was why he rallied so fiercely against her death.

When she slept her dreams were a confused jumble of faces and voices and _pain_ and she called out for him desperately.

She woke herself, coughing violently.

Jaime’s hand was on her back immediately, stroking awkwardly as she struggled to draw breath, the world swimming before her eyes.  Her throat felt as if it had been scoured raw and her lungs refused to take in the air no matter how much she fought.

If she’d felt strong enough she would have asked Jaime to take her out to the battlements, to take her out into the cold air so that she would at least die on her feet, die with the sky above her.  It was dark again outside, the wind howling around the Rock but it would be better than dying here in this stuffy, confining room, laid flat in a bed… just like her mother had been…

She covered her mouth with her fist, hacking, her whole body convulsing and shuddering. When she drew her hand away her fingers were red with blood.

Finally managing to gasp in some air, she croaked out,

“I regret that I cannot die fighting by your side with a sword in my hand.”

Her breathing seemed to even out then, which she regretted a little. As last words went, those would have been fine.

“You’re not going to _die_ ,” he shot back angrily, hand falling away from her back. Brienne reached out for him then with a shaking hand. Her fingers brushed the smooth skin of his forearm, feeling how cool it was compared to her own burning skin. He tensed under her touch, but didn't pull away.

She was going to die, soon. It could be hours away, it could be days but it was unlikely to be weeks.

She knew it and so did he deep-down

“I regret that I cannot protect you,” he said softly, so softly she almost didn’t hear it.

She wiped her blood-stained hand on her bedsheet, too tired to worry about propriety. Her mouth tasted strongly of blood now but it was marginally better than that hideous liquid from earlier.

He watched her for a moment, eyes mournful before gesturing to the door.

“It’s late, I should…”

“Just stay, you’ll be back anyway,” she said wearily.

He looked at her, mouth open.

Brienne sighed.

“The candle. You light it when you come in, so it’s burnt down more in the mornings.”

Jaime laughed softly, staring at the innocuous candle in its glass jar. He was obvious perplexed that he’d been given away by such a simple little thing. It wasn’t just that of course but she wouldn’t let him know he’d given himself away in a hundred other small ways, let him have his pride at least.

Brienne gestured to the bed beside her but to her surprise he instead knelt down as if in prayer, leaning against his folded arms so he could look up at her. He looked tired, worn, beaten-down.

 “Don’t leave me.”

It was whispered, his mouth partially covered by his arms, probably not meant to be heard but she replied anyway.

“I won’t.”

Slowly his breathing evened out.

She studied his face as best she could in the fading candlelight. His eyelashes flickered slightly as he dreamt, a shadow against his skin. An almost insupportable tenderness washed over her and she reached out, gently smoothing back the hair that had fallen onto his forehead, the tension and the worry lines of earlier smoothed away by sleep.

She hoped they were good dreams.

Brienne watched him until her eyes were too heavy to keep open any longer.

 

It was cold in the room when Jaime awoke and called out for her, groggy and still half in his dreams.

But there was no response.

The candle had gone out, a thin spiral of smoke curling its way out of the glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an AMAZING .gif by joker-took-my-picture! She asked me if I'd mind writing a fic for it and of course I did't!
> 
> Gifs-> http://joker-took-my-picture.tumblr.com/post/60692626498/no-blood-j-b-angst


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